"And there's Uncle Ponsonboy. Silas, what does Uncle Ponsonboy say?"
"He says that Mr. Dorris is a man of promise," Davy answered.
"Oh, does he? Well, he's not the kind of a man of promise, Uncle Ponsonboy is, who has been promising to distinguish himself for forty years. Old Albert reminds me of a nephew of my wife's. I supported him four years in idleness, but he was always boasting that he was able to take care of himself, and that he asked favors of nobody. He used to fill up on my bread and meat, and lounge in front of my fire, and declare that he never knew solid content until he began to make his own living, although he did nothing except to write to his folks, and say that they needn't worry about him,—he was able to take care of himself. But the old lady holds out against you."
Tug swallowed a laugh with a great effort, apparently locking it up with a spring lock, for there was a click in his throat as he took aim at Dorris again and continued, but not before his scalp had returned to its place after crawling over on his forehead to look at the smile,—
"I am glad of that, though. The old lady and I never agree on anything. I like the devil because she hates him. I shall be quite content in purg if she fails to like it."
Allan Dorris looked puzzled for a moment.
"Oh, purgatory," he said, finishing the abbreviation, and turning to his wife, who laughed at the idea, "we were talking about that just before you came up."
"Neither of you need worry about that," Tug said. "You are all right. I am the devil's partner, and I know. But if you should happen down there by any mischance, I will give you the best accommodations the place affords. If there is an ice-box there, you shall have a room in it; but no ice-water for the old lady. I insist on that condition."
They were very much amused at his odd talk, and promised that his instructions should be obeyed in case they became his guests.
"But why are you the devil's partner?" Dorris asked.